My dear familiar, Akasha, had a bit of a run in with a grocery bag last night.  Out of curiosity, she stuck her head in a Publix bag I failed to put away and, in cosmic comedic style, somehow managed to get her tail stuck and wound through the handle in such a way that the bag was perpetually eating her butt.

Now, Akasha looks like a little Ocicat — spotted, green-eyed, and softest fur imaginable.  Last night, she was all of one color, spots blurring into pure greyish fuzz as she darted about the house with that bag on her kitty-arse, trying to outrun the consequences of her own investigative urges.  I couldn’t catch her.  All I could do was sit on the couch and try not to giggle as the wind caught the plastic bag and made it look like a small hot-air balloon was anchored to her back half.

I know, I shouldn’t have laughed.  I just couldn’t help but think that that’s how I look when I get into something too big for my own britches and I start tearing through my life at Mach 2, wondering what happened to me and how the Gods could be so cruel.  In the meantime, They’re probably sitting there just like I was — shaking Their heads, unable to stop the terrorization of my own self-inflicted ass-chewing, choking back laughter while wanting to rescue me from myself.

I gave Akasha a big hug last night.  I told her I hope I look half as graceful the next time I screw up.